Desperation

We live some of our lives, questioning, it's purpose, and when we don't find an answer, we create our own purpose and then live majority of our lives dwelling around that purpose. Every one wants to live, with so much desperation, and yet they can't answer why do they want to live so desperately. Sometimes, even when we know we are living a lie, we tend to believe it to be not false, so that we can move forward, but forward where? So that we can just keep breathing, but breathe so that one day we stop breathing? So many questions, and no reasonable answers, so we create answers of our own, and hence the poem, of our desperation.


The wind speaks,
Words not heard of,
The sounds creep,
With noise so oft,
Dirt unsettles,
So unsettle the trees,
Heart understands,
The song of the leaves,
A mystic's lullaby,
The mystic of earth,
Who stirth in lies,
Of death after birth,
Lest truth shall dawn,
To let go of this reality,
So he must pawn,
Truth over infidelity.

'Till next time!
;)